


Clouded Silver Wings

by Akaluan



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Legend of Dragoon
Genre: Gen, It's mostly there to give Tony wings and magic, JARVIS is Tony's son, Most of the Wingly details are made out of wholecloth, Platonic Bed Sharing, Star!Tony, Team as Family, Tony is a Wingly, Trying something new, Wingfic, a bit - Freeform, because Dragoon really didn't go into detail very well, because that's how it went, besides calling Winglies cruel, but he still sciences, different style of writing, he just sciences magic too, mage!Tony, mostly unedited, very little necessary to know about Dragoon, wing!tony
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-09
Updated: 2018-06-03
Packaged: 2019-01-11 00:07:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12310719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Akaluan/pseuds/Akaluan
Summary: Starks are made of starlight and sky, magic and freedom. Descendants of the last children of the Divine Tree, their rightful place is in positions of power, even if no one but a handful of families scattered across the world recall the legends of a time long lost.Anthony Edward Stark knows the legends. He can spin magic from his fingertips and fly on wings of gleaming starlight. But along with the legends comes the truths: the world has no place for Winglies anymore, and those who retain the power must hide their very being behind a facade of Humanity. So he hides, and smiles, and disguises his nature as best he can with flash and mirrors, all the while gathering people who appreciate him for him, who make him want to be better, to rise above the legacy left by his long distant ancestors.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So this started as a "wouldn't that be hilarious" idea at 11 PM last night, and ballooned out to this ridiculous crossover fic that I didn't intend to write. The whole idea is vaguely absurd, but at the same time it fits exceedingly well with just minor tweaks. Of course, it helps a lot that Legend of Dragoon is such a barebones game, leaving so much up to the imagination of the player.
> 
> In Dragoon, Winglies are painted with a very broad brush -- they are cruel, they are creatures of war, they hold themselves above all other species. Individuals get a bit more development at times, like the Wingly party member who fights at your side against the big bad, but as a whole... there's no love lost between Humans and Winglies. 
> 
> The writing in this is also very barebones. It was originally supposed to just be an outline that I would show and then laugh at, but I ended up writing enough details that it became a story in its own right. Someday I would like to go back and color in the broad sketch outlined herein, but for now I hope you all enjoy. This first chapter goes up to the beginning of Iron Man 2, and I plan to take the story all the way out through at least Avengers 1, if not further.

Anthony Edward Stark was born with hair like starlight and eyes to match, a startling difference from both Howard and Maria Stark. The rumors of infidelity had barely begun before Howard had squashed them; he himself had been born with platinum pale hair, before it darkened in his teen years, he claimed. His son was just a chip off the ol’ block, even only minutes of age.  
  
(Truthfully, this was Howard’s proudest moment. The proof that Anthony took after him so strongly.)  
  
(He just wasn’t prepared for HOW strongly his son took after him.)  
  
At age four, Anthony spread his wings for the first time. The shimmering flares of light sprouted from his back, spreading like lace-edged moth-wings as he leapt towards the tree branch just out of reach. A powerful wing-beat, driven by desire rather than skill, sends him tumbling.  
  
His wails of pain called both his butler and his father.  
  
(He was more startled than hurt: scraped hands and bloodied knees and a split lip the worst of his injuries.)  
  
Edwin Jarvis knew, the moment he saw the brilliant wings, held awkwardly spread and shivering with the boy’s shock and pain, that things had just gone... sideways. Howard’s son was a Mutant—  
  
Howard knelt, gruff and bluster and dangerous gaze all—  
  
And talked his son through tucking the wings back away. Lectured the boy on revealing himself to anyone he did not trust with his very life.  
  
(Edwin learned something dangerous that day. As Howard spread his own starlight-shaded moth-wings, jagged-edged like knives to Anthony’s gentle lace-edged wings. As he realized that the white streaks in Howard’s hair were less _white_ and more _starlight._ As he realized that Howard was too old, too stuck in his ways, for this to be anything other than a skill long mastered and carefully kept. As he realized that Howard’s words had the cadence of a lesson learned from others, not self-taught through trial and error.)  
  
Life continued on. Howard came and went, searching, ever searching for a man lost long ago. When he was home, he lectured. Sharp and cold and expecting his son to master everything he taught, despite only teaching everything once.  
  
(Anthony stretched his wings only when his father was not home, after the third time he brought them out and Howard raged, furious over the gentle edges and soft patterns. Furious that his son was _soft_.)  
  
It was his mother, Maria Carbonell, who taught him where Howard failed. Who gentled the pain, tutored her beautiful baby boy in all the things Howard lectured on but never explained, who taught him the history of Who They Were.  
  
(The 107th race born from the ancient Divine Tree, in a time long gone when myths and legends still walked the land and dragons claimed the sky. Born last and most glorious and above all others—)  
  
(—born to fall, pride and arrogance destroying their place in the world, until the only ones of their kind truly left were those who had hidden themselves away. Married into Human lineages. Hid their wings and tempered their pride and realized that ‘last’ did not mean ‘best’.)  
  
(As a child, Anthony loved the stories of the Wingly cities, glorious floating lands high above the clouds, the pinnacle of magic and technology. As an adult, smudged with grease and carbon-dust and with hands heavily calloused from hard work, Tony scoffed at the idiocy of it. No wonder his ancestors fell, keeping themselves so aloof from those they proclaimed to rule.)  
  
Anthony was 9 when his mother began to dye his platinum hair. Just a few traces at first, enough to dim the starlight locks down to a pale blond a few shades paler than her own. He was 10 when his father demanded he put in contacts like a proper Stark, instead of relying upon the spell Maria had kept up around him to disguise his silver-grey gaze.  
  
(Anthony was a day over 10 when he stared in the bathroom mirror and couldn’t recognize the boy in front of him. Hair a few shades darker than his mother’s, eyes the same brown as his father. He wasn’t himself, his starlight smothered beneath the weight of the world. The delicate lace along his wing-edges began to unravel that day.)  
  
He excelled as best he could. Learned quickly and thoroughly, striving towards greater and greater heights just to make his father proud. To prove that he could be good. Could be strong. Just like Captain America. Magic was just another field, one that he threw himself into with fervor—  
  
(It was never enough. Not when Howard would complain that Anthony was using magic to cheat, to bypass difficulties that Captain America would face head on. Not when Howard would complain when Anthony couldn’t display his talents whenever Howard demanded.)  
  
(Overachiever. Cheater. Slacker.)  
  
Anthony escaped to college at an early age, barely fifteen when he first set foot on the M.I.T. campus, hair dyed such a deep brown as to be mistaken for black, eyes permanently hidden behind either tendrils of magic or whiskey brown contacts. Boxes of dye hidden away in his suitcase, boxes of contacts tucked away in his toiletries.  
  
Surrounded by people not in the know for the first time in his entire life, Anthony… didn’t handle it well. Flight was an escape of his, on those dark, terrible days when Howard was out and the weight of expectation was pressing down-down-down and threatening to chain Anthony to the ground forever.  
  
(It was on those days that he thought he understood his ancestors the best, as he stared up at the blue-blue sky and dreamed of floating cities hidden behind every cloud.)  
  
It took his roommate James Rhodes only two months to discover his secret, to walk in on him sitting on the couch, curtains drawn and moth-wings spread, delicate lace edging long lost to loose fringe, tendrils of silver-edged flame curling around his hands. Rhodes had come home early, forgoing the lab in favor of checking up on his (too young, too hurting) roommate instead.  
  
(He was a big brother. It hadn’t take him long to spot the signs of encroaching depression, of almost dangerous restlessness and feelings of being trapped, that his new roommate was starting to show. He was worried.)  
  
Rhodes became Rhodey, his honeybear, his platypus, the moment the man blinked, shut the door behind him, and flopped down on the couch at his side, poking at the wings made of starlight and asking questions with a calm ease. When he swore up and down that he would never tell anyone, that he had Tony’s back, would never let him down.  
  
M.I.T. was… easier after that, when Tony could walk around their small apartment with his wings spread, contacts removed. He’d never been allowed such freedom before, and while it wasn’t the flight he craved, it was something. Rhodey’s appreciation of his wings helped, too — he’d never had them called beautiful before, never had someone trail gentle fingers across the soft-smooth surface, or absently play with the fringe while distracted. Rhodey’s care made him feel loved, made him feel worthwhile in a way that he’d never experienced before.  
  
(Howard treated him like a cheap, flawed copy. His mother loved him, loved him dearly and deeply and thoroughly, but she was a Wingly just like him. Jarvis loved him, but no matter how he tried, he was still a servant, still in Howard’s employ, still needed to be careful lest Howard take offense. Rhodey, though… Tony had known from the moment Rhodey walked in the door that the other wasn’t anything but Human. That he could still care for Tony the way he did, even after learning what Tony was…)  
  
Tony spent many evenings teaching his best — and only — friend about the myths and legends of the long lost era. About Winglies and their cities, about the Dragon War and the long lost Dragoon Spirits. Rhodey repaid this gift by telling stories of his family. Tony considered the trade highly biased in his own favor.  
  
His parents’ deaths two years later ripped away what little sense of stability Tony had managed to gather, and he fell deeply into frivolity, playing fast and loose with his life and his sanity. Drinking, partying, studying, throwing himself deep into magics his mother had long denied to him on account of his age… and all the while, his Rhodey stood by his side, neck deep in the chaos and making sure Tony didn’t drown in it.  
  
(The first time Rhodey’s fingers lit with delicate silver tendrils, Tony’s heart skipped a beat. Rhodey was Human. Rhodey could not, should not, be able to do that. Rhodey just laughed, and asked if any Wingly had ever allowed a Human such freedoms with their Self as Tony allowed Rhodey.)  
  
(From then on, Tony swore he would never allow another so close again, would never accidentally spill his nature so far and wide and persistently as he did with Rhodey. But that was okay. He already had his platypus. So instead he built and built and built, crafting AIs to fill the gap he knew his Honeybear would leave when they went their separate-but-together ways. And if he drenched them in Wingly magic as he built, and if he could practically feel their Life as a result… well, his Platypus had just rolled his eyes and asked to be introduced.)  
  
They graduated together, Tony with multiple PhDs, Rhodey with but the one—  
  
(--and a second in wrangling insomniac genius Winglies, Rhodey insisted, though he often left off the Wingly bit.)  
  
Life went on. Tony became CEO, became (more) famous, graced the world with weapons and power unlike any seen before. He met a brilliant young woman and called her Pepper and made her his PA. He met an amazing young man and called him Happy and made him his chauffeur and bodyguard.   
  
(He didn’t mean to reveal himself to those two; Rhodey, he was sure, was one of a kind. These other two Humans were… brilliant, and lovely, and amazing, but his father’s words always echoed in his mind: Let No One See. But while he had instructed JARVIS to keep outsiders from seeing him as a Wingly, Happy and Pepper slowly became Not Outsiders in both of their minds.)  
  
So of course they both found out, Pepper when she walked in on him sprawled out across his Honeybear’s lap, half-asleep from a week-long insomnia-fueled inventing binge, wings on full display and practically melting into the touch of his best-and-only friend. He fell in love with her just a bit more when all she said was ‘about time he’s resting’.   
  
(She requested answers, once he was properly awake, and remained skeptical of the legends he told, but… she accepted him. Didn’t change how she treated him.)  
  
Happy caught him on the patio of his Malibu home one day, wings spread wide-wide-wide (more than twice the size that Howard ever sported, capable of carrying him through the sky for hours… Howard had always hated that knowledge) as he landed. Happy pestered him about flight, about how it felt, claiming that it was every kid’s dream come true and how else was he to respond?  
  
(Tony didn’t know what he’d done to deserve such loyalty, such amazing friends who stood by him no matter what. He swore to himself that he would never let them down.)  
  
Life goes on. He wheels, he deals, he becomes genius-billionaire-playboy-philanthropist Anthony Edward “Tony” Stark, known all around the world. He is the Merchant of Death.

(He smirks at the very mention of that title, inordinately proud of his renown.)

(Rhodey tries to talk him down.)  
  
Afghanistan happens.  
  
He wakes in a cave with a hole in his chest and a stranger’s hands deep inside him. He wakes in a cave to terrorists and demands and a death sentence hanging over his head and a stranger’s life in his hands (and his life in the stranger’s).  
  
Ho Yinsen is the fifth to learn of his heritage, as the days bleed into weeks into months and Tony’s hair fades to starlight and his contacts are removed and his magic falters under the weight of keeping him alive. His captors chalk it up to stress and lighting, but Yinsen is from a lineage that Remembers, that also kept the stories alive, and he teaches Tony as they work. All the stories, all the lessons, all the knowledge, and Tony treasures it. It’s not the grand tales of the Winglies who could do no wrong, but it’s… something more. Something Human, and Other, and down to earth. Yinsen’s magic is that of the land, and Tony bends his starlight to touch upon that strength, to brush against it and learn and grow in ways his mother never taught him and Howard would be furious about.  
  
(How dare he sully his Wingly nature, his near pure-blooded strength, with the magic of other races. It only makes him study harder.)  
  
Yinsen teaches him about things Tony has only speculated on before. About the properties of crystals and how to use them to boost spells. About permanent spells and enchanted items. About how to heal, to save, to protect.   
  
(Tony lives because Yinsen is a genius in his own right. A doctor without par, magic trailing from his fingertips as he operates in an unsanitary, open cave. Tony lives because Yinsen’s magic and Yinsen’s skills call him back from the brink time and time again.)  
  
He crafts an arc reactor and shoves it into his chest; he will not, _can not_ , keep it. Not for long. He is of starlight and open skies, and the metal in his chest weighs him down, saps his magic, tires him out in ways he never expected. It’s draining him, more than either of them expected, and he suspects he will die long before the palladium poisoning could ever become an issue.  
  
(Stark men are made of iron, Howard had drilled into him. But iron is a star killer, and Tony wondered, as he suffered the weight of metal in his chest, if that was why Howard could never fly far or for long.)  
  
He built and built and built, crafting an armor from scraps of death forged into hope for life. For freedom. For escape into the sky that had always, always accepted him. But even his best-laid plans were nothing in the face of reality: two men against a terrorist cell, breaking out from within. There was always going to be injury and death on the line.  
  
Yinsen sacrifices himself, buying time for Tony to live, and in his dying moments presses a fragment of magic, of himself, deep within Tony’s core. And Tony accepts the gift, accepts the wordless acknowledgment, and cradles Yinsen’s magic like the precious, priceless gift it is.  
  
(A gift that his own parents never had a chance to give him, an inheritance that Yinsen was never allowed to gift to his own children.)  
  
It helps. Yinsen’s magic coils through his body, wrapping around the reactor in his chest, cushioning Tony’s body from the effects of his magic trying to ruthlessly reject the very thing keeping him alive. Yinsen’s magic is like the soaring mountains, connecting earth and sky, and it helps. It helps so much Tony wants to cry with the relief of it, but he cannot, not now, not before he escapes.  
  
Which he does, burning everything in his path and launching into assisted flight as the world explodes around him. For the first time since childhood he is clumsy in the sky, his wings sealed within the forged metal and the armor ungainly and wounded. He crashes. Uses his magic to cushion the fall. Stumbles free of the wreck with one hand pressed to his chest and the other shielding his eyes from the harsh sunlight.  
  
But sunlight is just starlight up close, and Tony tilts his head back to bask in it. He is a mess, he knows, his disguise shattered from the time lost in the cave, and for once in his life… he doesn’t care. Now that he is once more under the sky, instead of trapped within the earth, Tony can reach out-out-out, can touch the fragment of his magic coiled within Rhodey’s body, and tug.  
  
Rhodey finds him. Of course he does.  
  
Tony goes home.  
  
He declares that SI will no longer manufacture weapons. Sees his Honeybear stiffen and pull back, shock and hurt and wondering all at once, and quickly… not backpedals, exactly, but clarifies.  
  
No guns. No missiles. Nothing to hurt-wound-kill-destroy their soldiers, to leave them with death in their chest and a time limit on their lives. No. He wants to expand, to defend in a different way. Protection and safety and knowledge that help will always come. It’s the rambling whims of a man, a civilian, back from months of torture and captivity, but Rhodey… settles.

Tony goes _home_. To Malibu, to the safety of his own home, to a place where no one can reach him. He stands on the balcony and stares at the sky and wants to _fly._  
  
The first time Tony calls forth his wings, he has a panic attack.  
  
His wings, his beautiful wings, are edged with jagged knives and streaked with Yinsen’s steel grey power. JARVIS calls Rhodey, unable to break Tony free on his own. Rhodey talks him through it, talks him down, rambles about nothing and everything and pulls Tony back.   
  
In that moment of weakness, Tony confesses.  
  
About the reactor, about Yinsen, about the newest limit on his lifespan. Because Yinsen’s magic is helping, is sheltering him from the effects, but it won’t work forever. It will be absorbed and integrated into his own core eventually, tempering his nature but not changing it, and when that happens…  
  
When that happens, rejection will start all over again.  
  
Rhodey swears, and holds Tony close, and promises to help. He calls his superiors, is granted leave, and throws himself into helping find a solution, a way around the death that Tony can feel looming over his shoulder.  
  
(Iron is a star-killer, and Tony has always been made of starlight.)  
  
Tony doesn’t bother redying his hair. Decades on, years and years of seeing hair like the void between stars, and Tony still weeps in relief at the sight of hair like starlight curling about his head in gentle waves. Weeps in relief at seeing himself instead of a stranger looking back.   
  
(Rhodey tells him he looks good, one hand combing through Tony’s silver locks, and jokes about needing a bigger stick to beat off the suitors his friend is going to attract now that he’s a dashing silver fox.)  
  
(Pepper purses her lips and tells Rhodey that she’ll help. Happy just laughs at Tony’s bewildered and relieved expression, clapping his boss on the back and telling him to have fun choosing between Rhodey and Pepper.)  
  
(Tony doesn’t know what he did to deserve such love.)  
  
It takes them a week. A week of struggling and trying and failing and trying again, before they finally, finally find an answer. Although Tony plans to use the arc reactor technology elsewhere, to expand upon it and become known as a Name in clean energy… he can’t put one in his chest. Even those tiny bits of shrapnel in his body are straining him, fragments of iron so very, very close to the core of his being.   
  
(Stark men cannot be made of iron, because iron is a star-killer. Stark men are last-born children of the Divine Tree, and Tony knows what that means, more than Howard ever did. It means they were born in twilight, bathed in starlight and the last glimmering light of day, to a parent already dying and gifting the last of its strength to the last of its children.)  
  
(It means Winglies were born on the border between life and death, born to strive beyond, to lead the way, to protect and nurture and guide and destroy the same way the Divine Tree once did. It means Winglies were born as a final, loving gift to the world.)  
  
(And then they took that purpose and threw it away, treasuring only the power, only the destruction.)  
  
(Tony refuses to allow that to be his legacy any more.)  
  
So he puts a casing made of silumin in his chest, and fills the ‘reactor’ with carefully grown crystal, and runs his magic through the whole thing until it finally clicks in place. It was tricky, to find a way to turn the magic into a set spell he didn’t need to maintain, but he did it. Yinsen’s lessons led the way, and his mother’s lessons gave him the final edge, and suddenly… suddenly Tony could breath again, could stretch and flare his wings and _fly_.  
  
(A lab grown crystal, with every atom aligned to perfection… that was the secret of his success. He turned the spell itself into a structure, embedded that structure into crystal, encased it in a shell for protection, and set that within the hole in his chest. Yinsen’s lessons led the way, led to Tony bridging that final gap between mysticism and science, turning _spells_ into _programs_.)  
  
(Suddenly, Tony could see so many possibilities stretching out in front of him, a dizzying array of potential that left him awestruck and light-headed.)  
  
High on success, high on life, on living when his death once loomed so close behind, Tony launches straight into inventing. Arc reactors and armor and mechanized personal flight. More pieces of crystalline spell structures. Mark II comes into existence, and Tony laughs and screams in joy and rockets through the sky faster than his own wings could ever drive him on. The sky has always been his domain, and now he can be there any time he wants.  
  
(He leaves spaces along the back of the armor, slits where his own wings can emerge from, and disguises that fact with an illusion of secondary systems designed to be a backup. Because he remembers falling, ungainly and trapped within an iron shell, and swore to himself: Never again.)  
  
(When his suit ices over and he falls, Tony spreads his wings and _breathes._ )  
  
His body adapts. To powered flight, to wearing the suit, to Yinsen’s magic, to the damage done to it. He will never again be the bird that soars forever without touching land, but he thinks this is, perhaps, better.  
  
(It is this moment, as he taps the casing implanted in his chest and feels the shrapnel steadily eating at his magic, that Tony realizes how much he had fallen into the hubris of the Winglies without even meaning to. How much he resembled his father, rather than his caring, loving mother.)  
  
(It will take years yet for him to acknowledge that she, too, carried the deadly hubris of the Winglies deep within her soul, though she tempered it well.)  
  
Tony launches himself straight into his attempts at atonement, wiping out stashes of weapons and the terrorists that hold them. The Mark II becomes the Mark III, and Rhodey and Pepper and Happy fidget and fret at home, knowing what he’s doing and unable — unwilling — to change his mind.   
  
Rhodey even does his best to teach Tony how to fight, how to prioritize, how to Not Screw Up. He teaches Tony about the rules of combat, about hot zones and political accountability and anything and everything else that might prove useful. Anything to keep his friend alive and well.  
  
(Tony takes to the lessons well, perhaps too well. He is both genius and Wingly, and Rhodey knows all the same stories that Tony grew up on, knows the dangerous line they’re treading with these lessons.)  
  
(Because Tony is more Wingly than Human.)  
  
Tony comes home one night, the armor scratched and dented and needing to be pried from his limbs by his robot helpers, and finds all three curled up asleep in his workshop. Even in sleep, there are stress lines around their eyes and a pinched look to their mouths, and Tony realizes with a sinking sensation that he is still acting as a Wingly would.  
  
(He will always be more Wingly than Human.)  
  
So he launches back into inventing, determined to never, ever again fail his friends.  
  
(But he can learn to be better.)  
  
Rhodey joins him in the sky, a menacing shadow to Tony’s obnoxiously loud color scheme. Pepper learns the ins and outs of strategy on top of her day job of keeping SI afloat, and joins JARVIS in keeping the two of them safe and informed. Happy takes to piloting a remote drone with alacrity, guarding their backs and scouting ahead and keeping everyone connected.  
  
They’re an unstoppable team.  
  
But Rhodey has a job to do, and no more time to remain on leave. He leaves his armor behind, unwilling to reveal the truth to the air force, and orders JARVIS to pilot the War Machine in his place.  
  
Rhodey returning, and the War Machine still being seen in the field, diverts attention from Tony. Because who else but his best friend would be fighting alongside him like that?  
  
(Rhodey’s heart remains in his throat every time a sighting of the two armors is reported, and he looks around himself and wonders: Can I really remain away?)  
  
Tony discovers the betrayal of Obidiah Stane. Has the fake reactor ripped from his chest, and can’t help the hysterical, half-mad laughter than escapes his throat as soon as the paralysis wears off and he can move again.  
  
Severed from himself the way it is, the fake reactor is useless. A pretty crystal in a pretty housing, slowly bleeding magic without a way to recharge.  
  
Happy and Pepper find him, trembling hands desperately attempting to put the arc reactor back in place. He doesn’t have a spare crystal. Can’t wait the time it will take to create one. Can only turn to the very thing Obidiah wanted to steal, but his traitorous, trembling hands will not allow—  
  
Pepper saves him. Happy fires up his drone and goes scouting.  
  
The three of them go into battle.  
  
Obidiah’s armor goes dark as the fake reactor stutters and fails, sending both of them tumbling from thousands of feet in the sky, locked in a deadly embrace. Tony rips himself free, panic making his wings flare out to stall his fall when his own repulsors begin to stutter. He cannot truly fly with the armor on, only control his descent, but that is enough.  
  
Obidiah is dead when Tony lands at his side. The man was purely Human, and his armor had weighed nearly triple Tony’s own. There had never been any hope of survival.  
  
Pepper lays a hand on his shoulder, tugging him gently away as she murmurs about home and safety and about how they will deal with everything in the morning. Around them, agents from some alphabet soup agency swarm, cordoning off the area and trying to clean the chaos up.  
  
Tony goes home.  
  
Rhodey is waiting.  
  
He coaxes Tony down, talks him through the shock, gently removes the original arc reactor and sets a freshly grown fake in its place. He calls forth his own thin tendrils of magic and sends them into the crystal, powering it as best he can until Tony finally snaps out of his funk enough to take over.  
  
(Rhodey has had enough. He’s pulled what favors he can to remain at Tony’s side for as long as possible. It helps that the brass thinks he’ll be able to sway Tony from the path of peace. Helps more that he agreed to remain in service, so long as he can live off base with Tony.)  
  
It takes all of five seconds to realize Tony will never accept the cover that the alphabet-soup agency is trying to push, and all of five minutes for Pepper to draft a better answer. She bends her mind towards damage control, towards enough truth to sell and enough slight-of-hand to shield the rest of them. Tony agrees, allows the brutal truth to stand for itself, and answers no questions not pertaining to himself.   
  
The world acknowledges Tony Stark as Iron Man and is left wondering at who is piloting War Machine.  
  
SHIELD’s leader invades his home, alternately threatening and cajoling, ignoring Rhodey entirely.  
  
Rhodey steps forward, stands at Tony’s side, and lifts his chin in stubborn solidarity as Tony orders Fury to leave.  
  
Fury backs off.  
  
(Tony already has a team, he doesn’t need another.)  
  
They fell back into a comfortable routine. Working and inventing and saving lives and relaxing together. They become inseparable, stronger together than apart, and the stories of Iron Man’s — of their — achievements flood the international scene.   
  
Stark Industries climbs in the stock market once more, every new patent and invention paving the way to greater and greater heights. The weapon lines are shut down, remodeled, reopened with new and improved products. The military isn’t entirely pleased, but SI’s offerings of gear and armor pacify them to an extent.  
  
Tony tells Pepper he wants her to be the CEO. That he needs more time for R&D, for Iron Man, for them as a group. It takes a week for him to convince her, a week of back and forth bargaining and scribbled contracts and promises from both of their ends. It takes another six months to prepare every piece of paperwork needed.  
  
It takes an hour for both of them to reread the whole contract, then sign and date and initial every line and box required.  
  
(It takes less than a minute for Tony to eye up Natalie-From-Legal and determine something is wrong. He cannot read her the way he can others. It leaves him bristling and wary and curious like a cat. He throws on the charm and tries to get an honest reaction.)  
  
(It takes JARVIS less than a day to trace her back to SHIELD.)  
  
SI’s stocks hold stable. Everyone knew Pepper was practically running the company anyway, and with Tony as the official head of R&D and nothing else, everyone sees a glorious future ahead.  
  
(Tony sets JARVIS loose, locking down virtual doors and plugging holes in SI’s system. He will not have a spy agency loose in his servers.)  
  
A Stark Expo sounds like just the thing.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The events of Iron Man 2, with a healthy, well supported Tony Stark at the helm. 
> 
> (Also, JARVIS is a little brat who snuck into this narrative more than I expected, whoops.)

The Expo begins with a bang, with Tony’s showmanship and Pepper’s glorious plans and Happy remaining their eye-in-the-sky. The Expo is more popular than even they truly expected, but they are a well-oiled machine at this point.   
  
The summons to a Senate hearing is entirely expected. Tony has enough ears to the ground that he’d known about the rumblings of a hearing for weeks now, and has had plenty of time to prepare both himself and the rest of his team. He’s even done the responsible thing and gotten a few of SI’s lawyers involved, instead of just relying on himself.  
  
(He knows what’s happening, when Pepper gives him a warm hug and Rhodey ruffles his hair and Happy walks in that evening with Tony’s favorite take-out in hand. It’s called ‘positive reinforcement’.)  
  
(The fact that these three have done more for him than almost anyone else is… telling.)  
  
(Maybe it’s not just his nature at fault.)  
  
He sweeps into the Senate with Happy and Pepper at his side and pours on the charm and stubbornness in equal measure. Nearby, Rhodey rolls his eyes and stares at the ceiling.  
  
(The audience believes Rhodey is praying for patience. Tony knows that his Honeybear is praying for stoicism. Rhodey always did enjoy his grandstanding.)  
  
Behind him, Pepper has on her best CEO-face, and Happy his best bodyguard-to-a-famous-man-face, and all three of his friends are cracking up inside as Tony runs rings around the Senate and leaves everyone else in the dust. The testimony by Hammer is as ridiculous as Tony expected, and he wastes no time in hacking the screens to show off exactly what his competitors are up to.  
  
(Ten seconds later, Pepper texts him an exasperated emoji. Tony bites back a laugh.)  
  
(That might not have been in the original plan.)  
  
The hearing winds down, playing right into Tony’s hands as it does, and he saunters out of the building with his head held high and his rights intact. Honestly, he wasn’t even lying when he said that he and the suit were one; with all the spell-programs inlaid underneath the outer shell, the Iron Man armor would be difficult for anyone other than another magic-user to properly use. And since no one knows Tony can throw magic around like party favors, well…  
  
He’s not above being petty.  
  
And of course he managed to wriggle in agreements about any other suits he builds, which means War Machine and whatever he equips Rhodey or JARVIS with next are free and clear as well.  
  
(Rhodey still flies War Machine, but JARVIS does too, whenever Rhodey is busy. And maybe it’s a bit selfish, but Tony likes the idea of fighting alongside both his best friend and his son at the same time.)  
  
It isn’t over, of course. The military still wants his suits, the Senate is still calling for his ~~(submission)~~ cooperation, and the media is lapping it all up and spitting out more and more ridiculous stories. Tony rides the wave of publicity with the same blasé calm as always.  
  
(He’s been in the media’s eye as long as he can remember. It’s second nature at this point to remain in control.)  
  
And in the midst of it all, Tony and the others continue to fight the good fight. Continue to strive, and win, and bring peace to as many places and as many people as possible. The rumors of Stark weapons start to dry up at last, much to his relief, but he knows it’s not over.  
  
Now comes the imitators, the profiteers trying to make money on an Industry Name. This stage, Tony suspects, will haunt him for the rest of his life, no matter how long he manages to survive. It depresses him a bit, if he must be honest.  
  
(He is the Merchant of Death, and always will be.)  
  
(A part of him still preens at the title.)  
  
Pepper takes his mind off of the imitators with a proposal for a skyscraper, powered by an arc reactor. A proof of concept, a tangible example of SI’s new direction, and also a brand new office for SI to expand into.   
  
Tony lunges for it with both hands. He drags Pepper into his workshop, fires up his holographic displays, and they start to plan the building together. It’s not going to be his project, it’s going to be _their_ project, and Tony couldn’t be happier at the way Pepper adapts to working alongside him in this. She might not be an engineer, but she has an amazing ascetic eye, and Tony _makes it happen_.  
  
It takes Rhodey showing up to pry the two of them out of the workshop that first day.  
  
The Expo continues.  
  
JARVIS informs the three of them that Natalie-From-Legal has been snooping around more than usual. That she’s been making calls. That those calls hint that SHIELD suspects Tony is dying.  
  
Tony is confused.  
  
He hasn’t been dying since he returned from Afghanistan. If anything, he’s better than he’s ever been, so long as he ignores the shrapnel in his chest eating away at his magic. But there isn’t enough there to do more than weaken his overall power, not devour his magic, his self, whole.  
  
Happy points out how it likely looks from the outside. Tony has given away his position of power. Has given away a suit. Has thrown the first Stark Expo in years. Has thrown himself into cleaning up after Obadiah’s double dealing with a fervor that few can match.  
  
To outsiders, Happy insists, that all looks like a man putting his affairs in order.  
  
And Tony… can’t deny that. Faced with everything laid out like that, he supposes it makes sense that SHIELD would believe him to be dying.  
  
So he grins, and spreads his arms wide, and asks his friends what they think of him driving a formula one car in the upcoming race.  
  
Pepper groans and throws a pen at Happy. Rhodey laughs and slings an arm over Tony’s shoulders. Happy puts on his best confused expression and asks when Tony _isn’t_ driving a formula one car.  
  
(That earns him another pen to the chest from Pepper.)  
  
Rhodey can’t go, of course. He’s out of leave days, and out of influence, and it’s only supposed to be a few days in Monaco.  
  
(Rhodey narrows his eyes, and stares at Tony, then turns to JARVIS’ nearest camera and _demands_ that the AI stay on his toes. He doesn’t trust that everything will go well.)  
  
(It never has before, Rhodey insists, so why would it now?)  
  
Monaco starts off well enough. Tony schmoozes with reporters and the famous, gives Hammer a shark’s smile when they cross paths, and then takes to the field to drive in the race. The crowd is roaring, astonishment and hilarity and interest soaring as Tony double checks his racing gear and buckles himself in.  
  
(No one expects him to be capable, of course. Why would they?)  
  
(But a formula one car is… not easy, per-se, but _understandable._ Tony has been street-racing for over half his life, and the Iron Man suit has only increased his reflexes. Once he gets a feel for the car, he floors it.)  
  
(His focus narrows. His mind stills.)  
  
(He lives in the moment.)  
  
A moment that shatters as a stranger steps out onto the track. Extends _something_ from his hands. Lashes out and severs Tony’s car in half.  
  
Tony rips himself free of the ruined car as soon as it comes to rest, crawling out from under it and barely having the forethought to crawl away from the track. In his ear, Pepper crisply informs him that War Machine is on the way, and that the drone is aloft.  
  
By the time Tony has managed to stagger to his feet, Happy has already put several tranquilizer darts into the disgruntled Russian and JARVIS-as-War-Machine has dropped the suitcase-suit at Tony’s feet. By the time Tony has suited up, JARVIS has taken hold of one whip and the man is already staggering under the effects of the drugs. It’s the work of moments for Tony to dart in and rip the crude arc reactor from the man’s harness and crush it.  
  
(The man growls about palladium poisoning. About revenge and hatred and how he hopes Tony’s death is an agonizing one.)  
  
(Tony is getting tired of the legacies he’s inherited.)  
  
He and JARVIS stand back, allow the police to do their jobs, and draw the attention of the media so that the officers aren’t harassed while trying to do that job. It’s about all he — they — can do, and according to the training Rhodey beat into his head, it’s all he _should_ do.   
  
(Tony is still learning, but as he sends a glance towards Pepper and sees her warm smile, he knows every step is worth the struggle.)  
  
He doesn’t bother to visit Vanko. He already has JARVIS on research, on finding out if what Vanko snarled at him was true, and he really doesn’t need to listen to more vitriol.  
  
Tony stands in his hotel room bathroom, shirt off and fake reactor exposed, fingers tracing over the circular light that keeps him alive. He thinks about palladium, about heavy metal poisoning, about double-dealing and betrayal, about legacies.  
  
JARVIS tells him the whole sordid story.  
  
(He wonders if he didn’t escape a terrible fate when his father died before gifting him magic. Tony can still feel the traces of Yinsen’s power within his core, etching pathways where none had existed. What would Howard’s magic have done to him? Would he have become even colder, even crueler?)  
  
(Tony shudders and turns away.)  
  
They return to the States, to the Expo, to their plans for the future. They return to Natalie-from-Legal being extra solicitous, and the government pushing for the armor, and Tony becomes… tired.  
  
He allows one of SHIELD’s attempts at tracking to succeed. Leads them to a deserted location and pretends to be drunk and despondent. A man on the verge of death enjoying his final few months.  
  
Fury approaches him again, talks in half-truths and riddles, and Happy warns Tony about Natalie-from-Legal’s approach. As she strikes for his neck, JARVIS triggers the helmet and Tony flicks a hand to use a weak repulsor blast to send her stumbling back.  
  
Dropping his pretense, Tony lounges back in his seat and reads Fury the riot act. The more he talks, the flatter Fury’s expression gets, until finally Tony runs out of relevant words and rises to stalk out.  
  
Fury lets him go.  
  
(Natalie-from-Legal is fired. Tony is relieved.)  
  
A shipment of Howard’s things arrives the next day.  
  
He throws himself back into inventing, desperately needing the escape. Howard’s items are shoved to one side and only poked through whenever Rhodey has time and Tony feels like he can stomach the sight of it. There’s some interesting information there, but… it’s Howard’s ideas.  
  
Tony needs something born of his own mind to clear his roiling thoughts.  
  
JARVIS gets his own suit, halfway between the sleek lines of Iron Man and the bulky power of War Machine. It fits him, all streamlined power and nimble movements, and it isn’t long before JARVIS takes to the field in his personal armor. Tony dubs it the Dragoon armor, and the name sticks.  
  
(Tony upgrades JARVIS’ servers. His poor AI is currently running _three_ armors, two as a co-pilot and one as the pilot, along with working with Pepper and Happy. His boy is all grown up and Tony _couldn’t be more proud_.)  
  
JARVIS doesn’t always fly as Dragoon. Sometimes it’s just War Machine and Iron Man, and sometimes it’s Iron Man and Dragoon, or War Machine and Dragoon, and sometimes — rarely — they’re alone on the field. They try to keep those times to a minimum, but sometimes it’s just not possible, even with JARVIS able to fly any of the armors.  
  
(Tony sits in his workshop late at night and stares at the Dragoon armor. Runs his hands over the patterned scaling. Remembers the legends. He asks the unthinkable of his son.)  
  
(He asks that JARVIS be the one to bring him down, if he ever crosses that final line. To be the Dragoon to his Wingly.)  
  
(JARVIS, reluctantly, agrees.)  
  
Weeks later, Pepper informs him of the explosion, of the suspected death of Vanko, and Tony stares at her blankly. The idea does not compute. It feels… wrong.   
  
He orders JARVIS to investigate.  
  
There’s little proof either way. There’s a body in the cell and bomb debris all over, but there’s also a guard with a snapped neck. Tony can see several ways that could have played out, and only one ends in Vanko’s actual death.  
  
Worse yet, the cameras are a mess. JARVIS cannot find anything of value, not even the moment of the guard’s death, and Tony feels the certainty settle into his bones. Vanko remains alive, and free, and out for revenge. He brings this up to his… to his _family_ , and they _listen_ to him.  
  
Happy muses about villain team-ups, like in the comics, and Rhodey starts making a list. All four of them settle around the kitchen table, and talk, and eat, and try to recall all the people who might sink low enough to work with a murderous criminal in order to get back at Tony. Pepper brings up Hammer half-jokingly, before freezing and meeting Tony’s gaze with her own.  
  
Tony can tell they’re thinking the same thing. About all the ways Tony has riled Hammer lately. About Hammer’s attempt at recreating a suit like Iron Man, and all the failures incurred. About a man with a working arc reactor strapped to his chest, and all the skills to craft one anew.  
  
Incomplete suits. Working reactor.   
  
Hammer has a presentation at the Expo in four weeks.  
  
They prepare as best they can. It might be nothing, but Tony has not become a billionaire by leaving things to chance. On the evening of Hammer’s demonstration, all three armors are waiting in the wings and Happy is camped out in the security booth, Pepper at his side. The guards are confused.  
  
When Tony gets a call from Vanko, announcing the man’s intentions, they know their preparations have paid off. The minute the drones begin to act aggressively, Tony launches into the fray, hurling an EMP straight into the middle of stage. He doesn’t expect it to do much — and it doesn’t — but it buys them time. Time for Rhodey-as-War-Machine to attack from the other side, repulsors smashing drones to pieces. Time for Tony-as-Iron-Man to bum-rush straight to Hammer and sweep the idiot out of the line of fire. Time for JARVIS-as-Dragoon to slam into the fray from above, skewering drones upon his lance.  
  
(JARVIS may have started playing up the Dragoon title, just a bit. Tony has no idea where his AI picked up a gaming habit from. He blames Rhodey for that one.)  
  
(Happy and Pepper, safe in the security booth, exchange smirks at the chatter.)  
  
( _They_ introduced JARVIS to gaming, not Rhodey.)  
  
Tony drops Hammer unceremoniously in front of the officers that Pepper has called in, then darts back into the fray. Security is directing people out, and the drones really aren’t a match for the three of them. There’s something to be said for quantity over quality, but Vanko hasn’t had time to truly create a quantity that was threatening, not after all the training together that Tony and Rhodey and JARVIS had accomplished.  
  
It was glorious. They moved with precision, teammates in the truest form of the word. Bantering and joking, words of caution and warning and guidance slotted in effortlessly, in a code they’d adapted and learned how to use together. Pepper directed them like an experienced conductor, and Happy did his best to keep tabs on every drone possible, shooting down those he could.  
  
By the time Vanko takes to the field in his newest armor, his drone army is in tatters and the few reinforcements he can bring to the field are half-built at best — Tony sees more than one that’s literally just a skeleton, without any armor or weaponry equipped. Vanko engages Tony in a fight, clearly expecting to win, and Tony…  
  
Well, Tony just huffs and rolls his eyes, letting Vanko’s sneering words wash over him. There’s nothing that Vanko can say that Tony hasn’t heard or thought already, and much like when he hears it from the media… well, it doesn’t mean all that much to him.  
  
(Besides, he’s hardly weak. Vanko is expecting him to be a cowering damsel, unable to fight except when others do the heavy lifting for him. Tony is more offended by that than by anything else.)  
  
(He knows his flaws intimately, after that wake-up call in Afghanistan. But a cowering damsel?)  
  
(Tony’s never been one to wait for rescue.)  
  
So Tony proves Vanko wrong. Taunts and teases and riles until Vanko is spitting mad and lashing out indiscriminately. The fight only lasts so long because Tony is trying to get a read on the man, on his actions and thoughts and how he moves. The moment he does, it’s over.  
  
Tony lunges, repulsor blast lancing out to knock Vanko stumbling. The man isn’t accustomed to fighting in a true armor, and his movements are just a fraction too slow as a result. Tony doesn’t have a problem getting up close and personal with the crude armor, and immediately rips one of the whips free of Vanko’s grip to disable it. Hand-to-hand in a mechanical suit is… difficult… but Rhodey insisted, and Tony will never question his best friend again.  
  
(That’s a lie. Tony will go right back to whining as soon as he thanks Rhodey once.)  
  
Vanko has no training in this, and his suit has no co-pilot. Tony takes ruthless advantage and tears pieces of Vanko’s crude armor free, dismantling it piece by piece until he can reach the reactor at its core. By the time Rhodey and JARVIS land next to him, Tony has Vanko trapped within an unresponsive suit, pinned to the ground by the weight of it. Vanko’s parting shot, about bombs within the drones, is like ice down his spine, and Tony turns to his friend and his son—  
  
Only to see JARVIS-as-Dragoon leaning casually on his lance, miming the action of examining his nails, as he informs everyone that the bombs have been dealt with.  
  
(Tony wonders when JARVIS started using human body-language so well. It’s both humbling and disconcerting to realize how much the AI has grown over the years.)  
  
(Tony is breathless with something he thinks might be love.)  
  
When the police arrive to arrest Vanko again, Tony obligingly finishes peeling the man from his armor, then hands him over. He hopes that this time nothing will happen, that Vanko will remain behind bars, but JARVIS is already informing him of his intentions of monitoring the situation and Tony thinks: Good.  
  
The five of them stay late that night, helping with cleanup and giving their statements to the police in turn. Everyone is still in the dark about War Machine and Dragoon, but JARVIS, the ridiculous AI that he is, ‘accidentally’ lets a ‘my father’ partially slip during the process, before swiftly switching to saying Iron Man.   
  
Rhodey laughs like a hyena when he hears, clapping Tony on the back and teasing him over closed comms about ‘like father like son’.  
  
(Tony threatens to make JARVIS a body, because damn it, his AI has opened a can of worms with that one, even if the words make him even more breathless and in awe than before.)  
  
(JARVIS just radiates smug satisfaction as best an AI can.)  
  
Tony and Rhodey and Pepper and Happy stumble home, high on success and survival and exhaustion. Pepper chivvies Tony and Rhodey into the shower, and by the time the two of them are done they’re barely conscious enough to make it to bed. Tony falls face-first onto his massive mattress, mind already whirling with plans to make JARVIS a body, and barely notes when Rhodey falls into bed at his side.  
  
He wakes the next morning from the best sleep he’s had in months, and in the midst of a tangle of limbs. For a moment he wonders if everything was just a dream: the kidnapping, Iron Man, the fighting, the Expo… JARVIS claiming him as a father in the most inopportune way possible…  
  
Except when he lifts his head up, he’s staring at Rhodey’s sleeping face, and Pepper is half-draped over him with Happy curled up against her back. Tony’s mind goes blank, trying to process what he’s seeing.  
  
Rhodey cracks an eye open, snorts at whatever he sees on Tony’s expression, then drags Tony back down with an admonishment to go back to sleep.  
  
Tony goes. The world can survive without them for a day.  
  
(He thinks he could get used to this.)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops, I said this would include Avengers, but I lied. Instead, this is an interlude between IM2 and Avengers, with bunches of Tony!Feels, Jarvis!Feels, and Rhodey!Feels.
> 
> Next chapter is Avengers, promise.

Tony divides his spare time between engineering a body for JARVIS and collaborating with Pepper about their new tower. The press is clamoring to meet his still-unnamed and unknown son, and Tony is in turns frustrated and amused by the interest.

He would have liked a bit more warning of JARVIS’ plan, thank you very much.

Except that, looking back, Tony wonders if there weren’t plenty of warning signs that he missed, especially after JARVIS began to pilot War Machine on his own. JARVIS was always the odd one out of his children, a soul without a body — because Tony wasn’t counting the house itself — and maybe… maybe that wasn’t the best of ideas.

(Winglies never handled being trapped very well. That it had taken JARVIS around two decades to lash out was astonishing.)

His son had already decided upon an appearance by the time Tony made it to his lab the day after the battle. Just a hair shorter than Tony himself, the body was all lithe muscles and compact power, the sort of build that would easily suit the fighting style that JARVIS had chosen to excel in as Dragoon.

(Now, if only Tony could look at the digital model, with its wavy platinum-silver hair and storm-grey eyes, without feeling like his knees were about to give out, that would be perfect.)

(This is his son. His son who has chosen to look so very, very similar to Tony himself.)

(Tony would cheerfully conquer the world for JARVIS.)

He starts from a Life Model Decoy base, but there’s so much more he needs to do in order to turn it into a proper body. An LMD was great for the purpose it was originally designed for, but there were weaknesses and tells that Tony refused to let stand. He wouldn’t allow anything to give away the game if he had his say on the matter.

Tony mixes spell-programs into the build. He’ll need to recharge them every so often, but they’re too useful to discard out of hand. They make up for many of the deficiencies of an LMD, because he doesn’t have time to create something better, something superior, just yet. Not with the hounds baying at his door and a deadline looming over his head.

The first time JARVIS onlines the body and begins to test it out, Tony can’t bear to look at the android’s face. JARVIS has never needed facial expressions before, and as a result his features remain eerily lax bar the darting gaze. Tony has seen dead bodies with more expression than that.

Instead, he takes hold of JARVIS’ shoulders and steers the android in front of a piece of metal shiny enough to be a mirror. Taps the metal just below their reflection. Tells JARVIS that the other needs to learn before they can go out in public together.

JARVIS is, as always, a quick study.

(It helps, Tony knows, that JARVIS has already begun experimenting with human body language with his use of the suit. He’s taken to being almost as expressive as Tony while wearing it, and now extrapolates that experience out to the more subtle language of the face.)

While JARVIS accustoms himself to walking around and emoting, Tony and Pepper continue their project. The tower soars towards the sky in their design, growing taller and taller as they slot all the plans and needs together into one place. Space for the arc reactor, space for offices and labs and common room floors. Space to relax, to eat, to rest. Tony knows exactly the sort of people he tends to hire, and he knows exactly how useful having areas scattered around for them is.

And of course, because he’s Tony Stark, he tops off the building with a penthouse suite, complete with floors for his whole family and an extravagant landing pad for the armors. If he’s going to move SI headquarters to New York, he’s going to do it in _style._

(Rhodey just laughs and shakes his head, but Tony sees the warmth in his best friend’s expression the minute the man spots the small lab on his personal floor. So many people forget that Rhodey, too, is an engineer.)

(Tony never will.)

It takes JARVIS four days to become proficient enough at expressions to pass, and Tony finally accedes to the need for a press conference. They’ve all woven a tale together that Tony hopes will hold water, including paperwork and all the necessary information to give JARVIS a legal presence in the world. They’ve decided to stick with the name Jarvis Stark, because now that Jarvis has a physical body — now that Tony is acknowledging the other aloud as his son — the reasoning behind the name is even more valid.

It isn’t strange for a man to name his firstborn son after a deceased and dearly loved relative, after all.

(Edwin Jarvis was more his father than Howard ever was.)

Jarvis has taken to speaking with more of Tony’s American accent, allowing his programmed British accent to alter and leaving JARVIS-the-AI to retain a unique speaking pattern. He is from overseas, their story goes, a son raised abroad in secret and newly arrived in America with his coming of age.

The reporters love him.

Jarvis has never faced a crowd in person before, and so he falls back on things he’s seen Tony do. It’s unpracticed, and a bit obvious because of that, but all it really does is make Jarvis come across as young and earnest. Combined with the acknowledgment that Jarvis is indeed Dragoon, no one can get enough of the newly revealed Stark heir.

(Tony spins a tale of not wanting his only son to grow up the way he did, constantly in the limelight, constantly in danger. The press eats it up and the public coos about how amazing he is as a father.)

(He… isn’t sure how to feel about the way the public is currently treating him.)

(Rhodey’s laughter isn’t helping, either. Traitor.)

(Pepper tartly informs all of them about the newly formed fanclubs, and tells Jarvis to be careful.)

(Happy eyes the group and starts considering getting more training. A drone is all well and good, but the level of public interest in the two Starks is rising, and it’s his duty to protect them.)

Things settle back into a routine. Jarvis settles into his body.

Tony waits for the other shoe to drop.

It doesn’t, though. The Expo continues uninterrupted, the world continues to spin, and their tower begins to be built. All in all, things seem to finally be looking up for them, and Tony starts to relax into the new normal that he has built around himself.

He upgrades his son near-constantly, both body and servers, unable to resist the urge. Jarvis works at his side, taking a quiet pleasure in being able to do so, and the two of them become even closer because of it. The LMD becomes so upgraded that it’s no longer recognizable as an LMD, and Jarvis launches himself into learning everything he can about living.

Tony and Jarvis become a common sight, for all they remain as private as ever. Luckily, time and exposure (mostly) desensitizes the public, and the media moves on to the next Big Thing to harp on about.

They all breathe a sigh of relief, stress draining from their bodies. Jarvis has survived the first round of inquisition, and no one had cried foul about him.

Time moves on.

SHIELD once more approaches them, metaphorical cap in hand. Fury doesn’t appear in person, but instead a man by the name of Agent Coulson, with his politely bland smile and tolerance for Tony’s dramatics, makes an actual appointment and shows up exactly on time.

(Tony is a little flabbergasted by this show of respect. SHIELD, being polite?)

(He tells Jarvis to be on his toes.)

SHIELD wants Tony as a consultant, as an asset in case the worst ever happens. In fact, they want everything: Tony and Jarvis Stark, Iron Man and Dragoon, and even the mysterious War Machine. There’s proof, Coulson explains, that humanity isn’t alone in the universe, and if there’s ever a situation where aliens turn their attention on Earth, well…

Tony glances around at his family, sees their agreement, and accepts. He — they — will be consultants, will be reserve members of the Avengers, but they will never, Tony insists, be directly under the command of anyone but themselves. A micro-expression of frustrated acceptance flickers across Coulson’s face before smoothing out once more. It was not what Coulson wanted, Tony realizes, but it is what he expected.

Before he leaves with Tony’s answer, Coulson makes a request. He would appreciate it if Tony would speak with General Ross; one of their potential recruits for the Avengers is behind bars, and Tony has plenty of military contacts. If he could use that, SHIELD would be… grateful.

Tony is suspicious.

His contacts are in the Air Force, mostly. In fact, his main contact is sitting right next to him. But Coulson smiles his perfectly bland smile and insists that Tony will get the best results.

(Tony knows exactly what results Coulson wants, as soon as he has Jarvis research the man he’s supposed to be freeing. The Abomination is nothing that Tony would trust in any form of ‘team’ or ‘protector’ role. So Tony puts on his best irreverent mask and meets Ross to discuss the Abomination’s release.)

(Ross, predictably, declines.)

(Tony, predictably, takes offense and then revenge.)

(Coulson just sighs and agrees to go with their second option, the Hulk.)

Pepper spends time traveling around the world with Happy at her side, checking up on SI’s various offices. The tower in New York isn’t their only grand plan, just the most eye-catching of them all. The Expo has been good for more than just publicity; she’s hired dozens upon dozens of freshly graduated scientists and engineers, placed even more in internships, enticed a few established people away from their current positions, and overall managed to secure SI’s continued dominance of the marketplace for the next decade. But all of that requires places to put all those new faces — and lab space to match — and she and Tony together are in the process of consolidating and moving teams around to better maximize their potential.

There’s less need of the media-dubbed ‘Iron Family’, with so many stockpiles of weapons dealt with and many terrorist groups deciding to keep their heads down for a time. And while Tony would normally be glad about this, Rhodey has insisted that they all keep in practice.

(Tony thought Rhodey’s training schedule was ridiculous before, but now that they don’t have missions more than once or twice a month, it’s even _worse._ )

(It’s only the memory of fighting Whiplash that keeps Tony’s whining mostly in check.)

It’s during one such practice that _it_ happens. Jarvis, trying to adapt to being a body in a suit instead of just a suit, takes a repulsor hit straight to the arc reactor, shorting it out. Trapped in an unresponsive shell and plummeting towards the ground, Jarvis _panics_ , and suddenly…

Suddenly his fall stops. He hangs in midair, massive starlight-shaded moth-wings fluttering and straining to support the weight of him and suit together.

Tony’s breath is driven from his lungs as he stares in awe at his son, and it takes Jarvis’ fearful cry of ‘Father’ to kick-start his brain once more. Darting to his son’s side, he talks Jarvis through the process of gliding down in an unresponsive suit. He steps out of his own armor and starts to peel Jarvis’ body from the Dragoon armor, one piece at a time.

Jarvis’ hand is trembling, latching onto Tony’s shirt as soon as it’s free of the gauntlet, and Tony does his best to reassure his son. He pulls the other into a tight hug the moment Jarvis is free, and guides them to sit as Jarvis works through his first experience of visceral _fear_.

Rhodey lands at their side, stepping free of War Machine and joining in, adding his own words of understanding and encouragement. He’s much better at it than Tony will ever be, but then he’s had training and experience that Tony lacks.

(And Tony realizes, with a sensation like a sinkhole opening beneath him, that _Rhodey is the most at risk of all of them._ Rhodey has no wings to catch his fall. _Rhodey has no wings_.)

(Tony swears to _fix that_.)

As Jarvis slowly stops trembling, Tony brushes reverent fingers against his son’s suede-soft wings and combs through the loose fringe that lines the edges. He can’t tell without spreading his own wings, but he thinks that Jarvis’ are easily as large as his own.

This was an outcome he had never expected.

(He had created _Life_. Jarvis had his own _wings_ , and Tony had _made that_ with his own two hands. He had created something _beautiful_ and he had never even realized the extent of it until now.)

( _This_ was a Wingly’s Gift, to create as well as destroy.)

Tony’s smile is probably a bit more dopey and loving than he ever wants to admit, as he runs his fingers over his son’s wings, and he doesn’t hesitate to coax Jarvis back up. Doesn’t hesitate to spread his own wings, to fan them out and allow himself to hover inches above the ground. He offers his hand to his son, and smiles, and asks without words: do you trust me?

Jarvis takes his hand.

Tony teaches him to _fly._

(Jarvis’ fear is soon lost to laughter, his son reveling in the freedom of unassisted flight.)

(Rhodey has to call them in for dinner.)

Lessons in magic become commonplace, and Tony makes sure to drag Rhodey into the mix as often as his Honeybear will allow. They’ve never really tested Rhodey’s limits before, but now Tony has a _need_ to know, if he wants to craft wings for War Machine.

Tony spins it as a way to protect their secrets — after all, the world already has images of Iron Man gliding down on starlit wings. It’s only a matter of time before Jarvis reveals his own while in the Dragoon armor. If Rhodey ever falls, if he never catches himself with bright silver wings, the world will start to question.

(Tony doesn’t need to admit his fear. Not when his Platypus looks at him with an understanding gaze, and ruffles his silver hair, and agrees without argument. Rhodey _knows._ )

Pepper and Happy come home.

The restructuring will take months yet, but everything is planned out and proceeding as scheduled. There’s grumbling, of course, but they all expected that and none of it truly appears to be serious.

The year winds down. The Expo ends. The team moves to New York.

The Tower isn’t online or functional yet, but Tony needs to be on-site in order to lend a hand and oversight to some of the more important bits of this phase of building. There is equipment he needs to install in the walls while they’re still open, and wiring he wants to add while no one is watching. That is how Tony spends his winter, elbow-deep in the guts of his future tower with his son at his side.

It’s not all he does, of course; he still works on schematics for R&D, still participates in Rhodey’s ridiculous training simulations, still tinkers with their suits in an attempt to improve them.

Rhodey’s wings are _hard._

War Machine is too bulky, too massive, for a Wingly’s delicate wing structure. Even Tony, with all his experience in flight, cannot sustain the weight of War Machine. His wings flutter and flail, barely slowing his descent at all. Even Dragoon is on the upper edge of acceptable; a few kilograms more and Jarvis wouldn’t have been able to halt his descent, only slow it.

Tony curses and snarls and lashes out, frustration boiling over until he’s hurling things at the wall of his lab. Delicate spell-crystals smash into razor-edged shards and metal twists and crumples in the face of his mindless rage. He’s never slammed headfirst into a wall like this before, not when the outcome matters _so much_.

(Rhodey’s _life_ is on the line! _He cannot fail!_ )

Pepper slaps some sense into him.

He stares around at the destruction with a hollow feeling in his chest. His hands tremble. He crumples to the ground.

Pepper catches him.

(He wants a drink. He _wants_ a _drink_. _Needs_ one, desperately. But he has done all of this destruction sober, and he remembers Howard’s drunken fury with dread.)

Tony turns a terrified gaze to Jarvis’ nearest camera. He can’t remember — _he can’t remember_. Did he hurt his son?

Jarvis bolts from the elevator. Wraps his arms around both Tony and Pepper. Reassures both of them that no harm came to _anyone_. Not himself, not his elder siblings, not even Tony himself.

Tony babbles out a litany of ‘sorry, I’m sorry, I’ll be better, I’m sorry’. He can’t stop the words, or the tears, or the way his hands tremble as he clings to two of the most important people in his life. People who aren’t abandoning him, or yelling at him, or telling him he’s a failure and a disappointment.

(He deserves all of that and more.)

(He is selfishly happy it is not happening.)

By the time Rhodey returns home, Pepper has gotten the three of them moved to the living room and onto the couch. It takes Rhodey the rest of the evening to tease the reasoning behind Tony’s meltdown out of him, and all of an hour to suggest an alternative that Tony never considered.

If Wingly wings were too delicate, what about Dragoon wings?

It… might work, Tony concedes after a moment’s thought.

Jarvis frowns and lights up a nearby holo-projector, bringing up War Machine’s schematics as he does. The problem with Dragoon wings is that they really don’t _know_ what those wings actually looked like, or how they provided lift; the legends are rather light on details, after all. Tony has exactly one very ancient book with highly stylized drawings in it, and Jarvis pulls the scans of that up as well.

They spend until the small hours of the morning going over designs, discarding plan after plan. Adding wings to the armor requires more compromises than Tony would like, especially wings like a Dragoon, but at least he has another direction to work towards.

(In the pre-dawn light, Happy finds the four of them sprawled out on the floor together, asleep in a tangle of limbs. It’s a bit late at this point, but he still drags out the blankets and does his best to cover each of his friends without waking them.)

The Tower comes together at last, the remaining contractors slowly trickling out and the interior designers trickling in. The last few pieces slot into place, and the Iron Family move into their brand new penthouse.

Tony stands at the edge of the landing pad and stares out over the city. It’s a heady feeling, being so high up and staring down at the lives of the Humans that swarm New York. He taps his fingers against the fake reactor, drawing on the lingering traces of Yinsen’s magic in his system to ground his senses once more.

(It’s like the best alcohol in the world, standing atop his tower and staring down at the milling Humans below. Feeling like an emperor. A god.)

(Jarvis takes his hand and tugs him away from the edge.)

(Tony gives his son a thankful smile.)

The two of them migrate back to the living room, settling into the sinfully comfortable couches and accepting the champagne from Pepper. It’s a quiet celebration, just the five of them, but that’s all Tony needs these days.

Jarvis breaks into the quiet conversation, announcing that Agent Coulson is requesting admittance to the penthouse. They share wary glances, before Pepper gestures for Jarvis to allow the man up.

Agent brings with him paperwork, news, and a request for their aid that has Tony examining the man’s expression closely. It’s been almost a year since SHIELD originally approached them about being consultants, but Tony never expected it to actually happen. Especially not with the contract Pepper had insisted upon drawing up.

But here they are, late spring and things have already gone so far south that SHIELD is willing to shell out for their services. Agent’s expression remains bland in the face of Tony’s scrutiny, giving nothing away, and Tony is… mildly impressed. He can’t get a true read on the man, but he thinks… he thinks Coulson is frustrated. Not about having to come to them, but something else.

Pepper flips through the collection of papers with Happy, the two of them murmuring together as they do. As each sheet is read, she sets it absently next to Tony, for him to lift and peruse at his leisure. It’s all there; dossiers, sit-rep, extra background, everything the team needs to form an opinion.

(Tony doesn’t have to ask. Jarvis is already discretely preparing himself to hack SHIELD. Just in case.)

They accept.

What else can they do, faced with a madman out to conquer the world? They aren’t heartless, after all, just independent.

The minute Agent Coulson leaves, they descend into organized chaos. Tony, Rhodey, and Jarvis retreat to the lab, where Tony throws himself into completing the modifications to War Machine with Rhodey’s help. Instead of rock music, they work to the sound of JARVIS-the-AI giving them a crash-course on thermonuclear astrophysics.

(Rhodey just shakes his head in amusement. He’s intelligent, but learning a whole new discipline in a night? He’ll leave that to the Starks.)

Pepper and Happy concentrate on familiarizing themselves with everything else. From the dossiers of the potential Avengers to what’s known about their enemies, they take it all in and begin to make plans. Pepper _knows_ the meeting between Tony and the Avengers is going to be explosive; Tony’s irreverent attitude and cheerful chatter will likely grate on Captain America, and he already has a _history_ with the Black Widow that means he’s unlikely to trust the woman very far. There isn’t enough information about Thor — and the Aesir is only included in the dossiers because his brother is the current villain — for her to draw any conclusions about that meet up, and Doctor Banner, well…

Pepper just shrugs and makes plans for another scientist to be joining them. She can’t see Tony doing anything other than inviting such a brilliant man back with him, no matter what ‘condition’ the other has.

(She’s already planning Ross’ downfall.)

War Machine, Iron Man, and Dragoon blaze out of Stark Tower the next day, racing across the sky and out to sea. Rhodey’s wings are ready for testing, and Tony desperately needs to _know_ that his best friend is safe, especially in the face of the combat they’re likely to see soon.

The three of them race into the heavens. Higher and higher, until the air is thin and clouds obscure the sea below, until Rhodey’s breathing is shallow and fast, until they have no choice but to surrender to the pull of gravity.

They fall.

Tony flips around, limbs tucked at his sides like a skydiver, his attention fixed on Rhodey. Jarvis darts lower, situates himself, prepares to catch his father’s friend if the wings fail.

(Rhodey feels only the thrill of adrenaline. Tony and Jarvis won’t let him die.)

Rhodey’s magic, already rippling through War Machine’s systems, shifts direction at a mere thought, and suddenly… suddenly Rhodey has _wings._ He can _feel_ them, distant but there, as the mechanical bases extend from the suit’s back and his amplified magic sparks broad ‘feathers’ to life. It’s a confusing welter of information: speed and angle and strain and a million and more points of data that deluge his brain and leave him drowning in a sea of minutiae and half-formed calculations.

(Is it like this for Tony? For Jarvis? Or is it just because his wings are built with technology and magic together?

Jarvis catches him.

The design is going to need some work.

(He needs some aspirin. Ow.)

Tony babbles apologies, clinging to Rhodey’s side in midair, having flared his own wings so he can do so without needing the palm repulsors to stabilize himself.

Rhodey reaches out to give his best friend a solid thump to the gaudy helmet, letting his faceplate retract so he can give Tony a _look_. The stream of information continues to bombard his mind, more manageable now that he is no longer moving, but still _there_ , still demanding his attention in ways Rhodey is unaccustomed to.

He asks Tony about it.

The look of shock that flickers across Tony’s expression is mirrored by Jarvis’, and Rhodey realizes how much difference being a Wingly makes. Because Tony had tested the basics of the wings, had used them to make War Machine hover in the center of his lab, and _he hadn’t seen a problem with it._

(They _might_ be trying to run before they can crawl, Rhodey acknowledges with amusement. This was something they should have discovered before they threw themselves headfirst into free-fall.)

The rest of the day is spent back at the tower, trying to fine-tune the interface, but it’s difficult. Rhodey’s magic is inherently Wingly in nature, coming from Tony as it did, and what _he’s_ processing as mathematical calculations and a deluge of unimportant minutiae, a Wingly’s brain parses in an entirely different manner. They resort to scanning Tony’s brain as he hovers in the lab, massive mechanical-and-magical wings spread wide and fanning the air, and attempting to recreate the process that allows Tony and Jarvis to just _fly_.

Rhodey is missing an entire complex web of connections in his brain, they find. His inherited magic is trying to activate something that isn’t _there_ , and in the process is triggering the closest thing available.

(Rhodey wonders if he could have gained that web of connections, if they had tried to build him wings long before this point.)

By the time they collapse into bed that evening, their makeshift solution is… well, not perfect by a long shot. It’s just a filter, restricting the information Rhodey receives.

(Tony panics and hurls himself free of War Machine the minute he tries to use the wings with the filter in place, his own wings flaring to life the instant he escapes. Rhodey holds his trembling friend close and listens to Tony’s sobs with a heavy heart.)

(He refuses to allow either Tony or Jarvis to wear the armor from then on. Not so long as the filter is part of War Machine.)

(He will not sit by and allow them to torture themselves with the sensation of being crippled.)

It’s just a filter, and Rhodey is still incapable of actually flying. The best he can manage is to lock the wings into a gliding position, but that is more than enough for now. Tony is convinced he can replicate the process his own brain is performing, but Rhodey suspects that will take years and enough experimentation to give him a permanent headache.

He still agrees to it.

Anything to give Tony some peace of mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I seriously did not mean to have the wings become so important? But as soon as I decided that Jarvis was going to end up having Wingly wings because he's Tony's son in all ways, Tony started fixating on the fact that Rhodey is up there in the air with him, without a way to save himself if the armor fails? And then the whole Thing with the neurological differences came up, and really that just makes sense to me? That a species with wings would have a neurological structure to handle flying which wouldn't be entirely shared by a species WITHOUT wings -- so, you get a brain structure similar enough to Humans that brain scans wouldn't REALLY register it as anything other than a rare -- and harmless -- difference (so long as the person doesn't have wings out) but different enough to support all the information and 'calculations' that would need to go into moving a tertiary set of limbs around. 
> 
> So Tony builds wings for War Machine, and tests them out, and doesn't register that there's a problem because There Isn't One, at least for him. And I'm not joking about the filter he installs making him feel like his wings are crippled -- a good majority of the extraneous (to Rhodey) information is being blocked, but it's essentially the equivalent of, say... not having sensation in your legs at ALL and trying to walk. Can't sense pressure, or pain, or temperature, just have a vague feeling of where the limb is and that's it. And after everything Tony's been though, that is NOT fun.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not entirely sure I like the way this ends, but I've been struggling with the helicarrier scenes for so long that I've given up, so... enjoy I hope?

Jarvis alerts them to Loki's appearance in Germany right before lunch the next day, and the team scrambles. Foresight meant Pepper had already cleared her schedule for the next week, and Agent had pulled enough strings to get Rhodey temporarily assigned to SHIELD instead of the Air Force. Rhodey wasn't going to be able to hide his identity as War Machine for much longer, they all knew, but the consideration was appreciated.

So Pepper returns home and picks through stacks of paperwork, and Happy sits at her side and picks through stacks of data that JARVIS is collecting, and Tony, Rhodey, and Jarvis settle into a simple flight formation and trade lead every hour or so.

The flight across the ocean is tense and silent, with only the wind and JARVIS' occasional updates to keep them company. This isn't the first transcontinental flight for the team, but it is the first with a world-ending threat on the other end. They have so little solid information on Loki, just hearsay and legends, and it makes every one of them nervous. Terrorists and state-of-the-art weapons are one thing, but a being out of legend..?

(Tony can already feel his senses sharpening, as the warfare bred into his breath and bone surges to the fore once more. He himself is a being out of legend, and one he doubts the Aesir remember.)

(If Loki wants to conquer the world, he's going to need to go through Tony first.)

By the time they reach Stuttgart, Germany, night has fallen and Loki is outside having a fight with a man in a Captain America outfit of all things. A few heartbeats to hack the — pathetic — defenses of the hovering quinjet, and a suitable theme song starts to play over the plane's loudspeakers as the three armors swoop in. Tony slams Loki with a dual-blast from his palm repulsors, sending the Aesir sprawling and giving the three of them a moment to land into a loose V around Loki.

(Tony absently notes a familiarity about the man in the uniform, but now is not the time to examine it closer. It's probably nothing, just SHIELD doing an exceptional job at filling out the costume.)

(It's can't be Howard's precious-perfect-wonderful Captain. It can't be.)

Their presence wasn't expected.

(Pepper's confused noise tells Tony everything he needs to know; SHIELD knew, but didn't inform the vanguard of their approach. Having become accustomed to the branches of the military and how they operate… Tony isn't very happy with that knowledge.)

Tony draws attention to himself, playing for time so the Captain can stand up and arm himself once more. He barks an order at Loki to stand down, and flares every available weapon on the Iron Man armor in a show of force; to his right, War Machine pulls out the big guns, and to his left, Dragoon spins his lance in a dramatic gesture pulled straight from a video game. It's all very intimidating, Tony is certain.

Behind them, the cosplayer quickly rises to his feet and scoops up his shield, and Loki is clearly calculating the odds. Thing is, Tony is, too, and he's coming up a bit short.

The surrender, when it comes, is too _easy_. Loki just lowers his scepter and allows his armor to fade away, a twisted little smile on his face that has every one of Tony's instincts ringing alarm bells.

Over the closed comms, Rhodey is muttering about false surrender, and Jarvis is playing a few clips of the fight between the cosplayer and Loki from before they arrived. Loki is too strong, too powerful, for this to be anything but fake; even three (or four, if the cosplayer continued to be involved) on one, the supposed god would have probably kept up with them. And that isn't even accounting for the magic that Tony _knows_ Loki has. It's limited at the moment, either tightly restrained or mostly exhausted, but Tony isn't going to rely on what he's sensing in that regard.

Loki is known as the God of Mischief and Lies, after all.

It doesn't take long to load the newly 'captured' Loki into the quinjet, and Tony takes his place in the vehicle as well, letting Jarvis and Rhodey fly escort. He won't put his best friend and son at risk in such close confines, not when Tony is likely the only one present with a prayer at fighting Loki on equal footing if the other decides to use his magic seriously.

Rhodey and Jarvis both have the knowledge — and Tony would be an idiot to count those two out before a fight even starts — but Tony is the one with the strength and the practice. It's nothing in comparison to the hundreds of years of practice that Loki probably has, but it's still a better chance than Natalie-from-Legal or the cosplayer have.

Tony doesn't take off his helmet for the ride back to SHIELD, nor does he talk, despite the cosplayer trying to engage him and Loki staring at him thoughtfully. His silence is starting to bother the rest of the Iron Family, but what can Tony say? That he has a _bad feeling_? That it feels like the scepter is trying to _gnaw_ its way into his brain with every moment he spends in its presence?

He's building defenses around his mind as quickly as he can, and still the presence keeps gnawing away, slowly, inexorably carving a path into his mind. It's subtle enough, he'll give it that; if he didn't have magic he'd have never sensed it as anything more than a quiet discomfort, a niggling little feeling at the back of his mind. It's like some of the oldest sycophants on the Board of Directors, the ones who tried to influence him against Pepper with every word they spoke. The scepter wasn't _saying_ anything, but there was a sense, a _feel_ to it, that made his mind want to whisper ' _why do you trust these people? They_ _'re nothing compared to you. They'll just drag you down and waste your time.'_

(The fact is, he _doesn_ _'t_ trust anyone in the quinjet. Natalie-from-Legal is flying it, and the Captain America cosplayer is an awkward reminder of a time Tony would like to forget, thank you very much. And the less said about Loki, the better.)

(So Tony stands in near-unnatural silence and builds defenses around his mind. Let the spy make of that what she would, when she couldn't even sense what he was doing.)

Jarvis' panicked announcement of a sudden — and very unnatural — storm forming overhead snaps Tony's attention outward once more, just in time to spot the flash of honest fear sketched across Loki's face as he glanced upwards.

Right. Loki, brother of Thor, the legendary God of Thunder. That was in the dossiers Agent had given them.

Rhodey calls it in as a figure drops from the sky and lands atop the quinjet with a heavy _thud_. Moments later, Tony is tossed against one wall by an impossibly strong man wearing a red cape, for the sin of being between the man and Loki.

(Happy's miniature drone detaches from the Iron Man armor and latches firmly onto the bottom of Thor's cape, and Tony is inordinately proud of his friend for that.)

It's over in seconds. Loki and Thor are gone, the rear hatch of the quinjet is hanging open, and Jarvis is calling out the trajectory of the two Aesir as they fall. Pepper sighs, pulls up the sparse information they have on Thor, and starts giving orders.

The Captain cosplayer is trying to gather himself, looking both shocked and disbelieving, and Tony has to wonder: did the man even read _any_ of the dossiers? Or was he thrown headfirst into this situation without a hint of preparation?

Pepper's orders are logical, and Tony pulls himself to his feet and strides over to the open hatch to start following them; he's on Loki-guard once more, with Rhodey and Jarvis set to distract and try to talk Thor down. As much as his pride wants a go at the big blond mountain that hurled him aside without warning, Tony's own lessons in strategy hold him back.

Pepper is making the right call. It's not the call that his pride likes, but it's the right call.

Not that the cosplayer is aware of these plans; they're all operating on closed comms still, which leaves the man shouting at Tony's back about needing a plan of attack. Tony's snappy comeback is going to bite him later, he knows it, but it gets a swell of laughter from his family, and that's all that matters.

(He's not even really lying. Pepper's plan does boil down to 'attack'. It's just… a bit more nuanced than that.)

By the time the three of them reach the point the two Aesir landed, Loki and Thor are standing atop a ridge and Loki looks… frustrated. Given the pleading and lecturing that Happy's drone is picking up from Thor, it's an entirely warranted reaction; even Rhodey is groaning in exasperation as they listen in, and that's how Tony knows it's _really_ bad.

Rhodey sweeps in with perhaps a bit more force than necessary, the War Machine armor serving him in good stead as he slams into Thor and sends them both tumbling down into the forest below. Jarvis hesitates for a moment, casting a glance Tony's way, before following Pepper's orders and darting after Rhodey.

Which leaves Tony alone with Loki. Alone with a mage who has been alive since at least the time of the Vikings, if legends are to be believed. Tony is so outclassed there isn't even a comparison, but… he's not afraid.

(The Earth belonged to Winglies long before Loki was even a dream in his mother's mind. It belonged to the Winglies, and was lost to the Winglies, and if Loki thinks that _he_ can do any better than an _entire race_ , then the Aesir has much to learn about Earth and its people.)

Tony lands in the spot Thor had occupied and retracts his helmet for the first time, meeting Loki's wild and suspicious gaze. There's a shimmer in the Aesir's eyes, a blue glint akin to the glow of the scepter, and Tony grimaces at the sight. He's going to need to check his own eyes closely when he gets a moment, if that's what he suspects it is.

Loki frowns at the silence and makes a few verbal jabs, trying to get a rise out of Tony.

But Tony knows this game, and flips it back on Loki without hesitation, giving the man no response other than a smirk.

The Aesir snarls and stalks forward, magic rising in invisible threads and reaching for Tony, intention clear. Tony holds his ground and lets his own magic slip free, entering into a silent battle with the ancient mage.

(Loki's magic tastes like winter. Like frigid, endless nights and woodsmoke and clear, brittle glass skies.)

(Tony wonders what his own magic tastes like to Loki.)

The two of them remain soundless, motionless, locked within the cacophony of their magic interacting. Loki is _old_ , his magic carrying the weight of centuries, but Tony refuses to back down.

(This is magic at its most primal, driven by will and pride and confidence, and no one has ever accused Tony of lacking any of those traits. This is magic just a single step removed from the soul, heavy with truths that anyone with talent can read.)

(There is a reason mages rarely resort to such primitive means of combat.)

Below them, combat echoes loudly. Over the comms, Rhodey is cursing and mouthing off, Jarvis is making quips that make Tony so _proud_ of his son, and Pepper is silent in that _way_ of hers that makes Tony feel sorry for their enemies. By the end of their fight with Thor, Pepper will have hundreds of observations for him. Observations that will turn into suit upgrades, into advantages, into _victory_ that Thor will never expect if they ever need to fight him again.

Very little will be applicable to Loki, Tony knows. There's… a _feel_ to Loki, beyond all the magecraft and scepter-taint, and makes Tony wonder how accurate some of the Viking legends actually are.

When the sounds of combat finally ebb away, so too does Loki's magic. It settles back within the Aesir's skin, and the man moves away, body settling into a posture of submission that Tony doesn't buy for a second.

(He is now one hundred percent certain that being captured was part of Loki's plans. He just can't see the _connection_ yet, the reasoning behind it all that drives Loki's decisions.)

(He'll need to inform his family once he has a moment of freedom.)

The quinjet lands once more, and Loki is loaded back into place. Thor, newly appeased, also climbs in and takes a seat.

And that's when Tony gets a look at the War Machine armor, and squawks in indignation. Rhodey has made a _mess_ of it during his fight! It isn't just the scratches to the paint job, where gold glints through the grey, but it's damaged plates and a sparking palm repulsor and _everything_.

Rhodey laughs, teasing him that his armor stood up to a _god of Thunder_ , after all. That it's still mostly in one piece is a testament to Tony's skills.

Still, there's no way Tony is going to allow Rhodey to continue wearing such damaged armor. Not when his best friend's life is going to rely upon it. Even Jarvis' armor is showing damage that Tony doesn't like to see, and he orders both of them into the quinjet instead of allowing them to fly.

It's a bit of a squeeze — three armors, two gods, and a cosplayer — but nothing worse than they've dealt with before. Tony glares daggers at the scepter the entire flight over to the Helicarrier, daring it to try its tricks on any of his family, and letting Rhodey and Jarvis carry what little conversation there is.

This time, his helmet remains down, and everyone can see where his gaze is directed. The one time conversation is directed his way — by Natalie-from-Legal of course, probing at his antipathy for an inanimate object — Tony replies with a flippant comment about how he hates magic.

(That earns him an amused glance from Loki. The Aesir _knows_ he doesn't hate magic, but yet he says nothing. Tony isn't certain why.)

(Rhodey and Jarvis laugh, as if Tony's antipathy is a well known joke between them, but they, too, know the truth. And they, too, can sense the _wrongness_ about the scepter. It's no coincidence all three of them are seated as far from the stupid thing as they can be.)

By the time they reach the Helicarrier, Tony is itching to destroy the damn scepter. In the face of so many magic users it had ceased its relentless attack on his mind, but it still continued its attempts at passive influence on all of them. Tony could already see the effects on the cosplayer and Natalie, with the subtle darkening of their moods, and he was already mentally building a barrier spell to put around the damn scepter as soon as he got a chance.

Tony chivvies his family out of the quinjet and into the Helicarrier, demanding that they take off the armors and let him get at least a few things fixed. He'd prefer that they just return home to pick up replacement armor, but he doesn't want to take the risk that something will happen before they can.

But before he can do more than start pulling up the plates and repairing some of the wiring, Agent appears in the the little room they had been directed towards and politely requests their attendance on the bridge. Tony scoffs and tosses a bent piece of metal aside, fully intending on skipping, but Rhodey gives him a _look_ and Tony concedes with a sigh. Agent _was_ exceedingly polite about many things, after all, and Tony supposes he owes the man at least a little for being a buffer between him and Fury.

They're a sight to see, moving through the Helicarrier's corridors; Tony in the lead and bantering with Agent Coulson, with Jarvis to his left and Rhodey to his right. Whispers begin to follow them through the base, from agents who pass them on the way and eye up the group thoughtfully. The agents have clearly drawn the correct conclusion about War Machine's identity, and Tony shoots Rhodey an apologetic look, to which the other man just shrugs in acceptance.

(Rhodey always knew his anonymity wouldn't last forever. Better it comes out this way, then at the worst possible moment.)

They breeze onto the bridge as a unit, into the middle of a conversation about building a portal of all things, and Tony and Jarvis are instantly at the third scientist's side, bantering back and forth about use and method and ways. Rhodey just stands back and watches them with a fond smile, occasionally adding a comment here or there when the talk veers into science that he's conversant in.

The rest of the occupants are… less than thrilled by this.

To be honest, Tony is less than thrilled by this; specifically, by being in this room with these people. His magic is writhing within his body, throwing information at him left and right, and it's taking everything he has to keep his voice even and his focus on the science.

Now that the scepter isn't clouding his senses, he can _feel_ the cosplayer, and it makes him _sick_.

That's no cosplayer.

That's the original Captain America, however SHIELD managed to get their hands on the guy.

(He looks over and expects to see _Howard_ sitting there, arms crossed and disappointed scowl on his face. Steve Rogers carries _Howard_ _'s_ magic within him, like Rhodey carries Tony's, and suddenly Tony _understands_. He understands why the serum never worked properly again. Why Howard was so fixated on the Captain.)

(By the magic, that's his _father_ _'s twin_ sitting at the table, impossibly young and impossibly strong. Of course Howard would prioritize a piece of _himself_ over his own son.)

(Tony wonders, sick to his stomach at the very thought, if he would prioritize Rhodey over Jarvis like that.)

Jarvis crowds in closer to him, ostensibly to pull out a phone and flick a hologram into existence for the three of them to look at, but that doesn't require the way Jarvis practically glues their shoulders together, or how Jarvis tangles their magic together through the contact.

Tony takes comfort in the silent support, and tries to ignore the crawling feeling of Howard at his back in favor of the science in front of him and his son's magic at his side.

(Jarvis' magic is not _his_ magic, not the same way Rhodey's magic is his magic, which is strange. After all, Tony is Jarvis' only parent. And maybe that makes more of a difference than Tony originally thought, the difference between being 'born' with a gift of magic and being granted magic as an adult.)

Fury strides in, single eye scanning the group and lingering on Rhodey, before he sweeps past and takes his position at the consoles. He reminds them that Banner is only there for the science, to track the cube and help them reclaim it.

(Tony gives Jarvis a questioning look, and his son nods; he knows where Fury was, and what he was doing, and that's more than enough for Tony at the moment.)

Rogers jumps in, compares the scepter to HYDRA weapons, and Tony… Tony has to wonder. If the scepter and cube are somehow linked, had HYDRA managed to stumble upon a method of harnessing _magic_ by studying the cube? Alien magic, twisted into Human weapons… it would certainly explain some things.

(Fury is wrong, though, and Tony is certain of that even without coming into contact with the cube. The scepter and cube are _similar_ , but one does not power the other. The scepter has its own power, _is_ its own power, and Tony wants it _off his planet_.)

Jarvis nudges his shoulder, calls him back to the moment, and Tony flashes his dazzling press smile around the room, then gestures for Banner to lead the way to the lab.

There's no point in hanging around when there's science to be done.

(The sooner he gets away from Rogers, the better.)

The minute the four of them make it into the lab that Bruce Banner had set up in, Tony and Jarvis are a whirlwind of movement. It takes a bare few minutes to get a decent scan of the scepter's radiation for the profile they need to build, and the minute they do Tony slaps his hand down on the table the scepter is resting on and forges a barrier around the whole thing.

It isn't more than a stopgap, but it will do for the moment.

(Tony relaxes as soon as the scepter is cut off, a weight dropping from his shoulders. The stillness in his mind is such a relief that he wants to shout in victory, and he knows that Rhodey and Jarvis feel the same.)

(The sooner they're _all_ away from this piece of alien techno-magic, the happier Tony will be. _Whatever_ it is, it doesn't belong on Earth, and it clearly has no benevolent purpose.)

Jarvis disguises the flare of steel-and-silver power with clever arrangements of screens and an equally clever momentary hack of the room's cameras and sensors. Any sensors specifically monitoring the scepter's radiation are either fed a stream of false data or are tricked into reading as off. Tony is proud of his son's initiative, and shows that with a hand on Jarvis' shoulder.

Bruce is watching them from the corner of his eyes, a pinched expression on his features, and Tony flashes him a bright smile and launches into distraction mode, hoping the man will realize that _whatever_ he saw, Tony wants to keep it hidden.

(And if 'distraction mode' means that Tony pokes and prods at the other scientist in an attempt to get a reaction, well, he has never claimed to be a saint.)

(But really, there's _something_ about Bruce that keeps niggling at the back of his mind, and he really isn't good at letting sleeping dogs — or giant green rage monsters in this case — lie.)

Still, Bruce begins to relax around the three of them, and Tony can't help the _glee_ he feels at finding another mind as intelligent as his. Rhodey orbits around the edge of the room, monitoring the progress of the various scans, and Jarvis soon wanders out of the room to continue repairing their armors. Four minds _is_ a bit much for a program that Bruce had already done the majority of the legwork on, and there's little to do while they wait for results.

Bruce is clearly curious about what Tony had done, his attention continually shifting between the scepter, the screen he had been using the monitor the scepter, and Tony himself, but he never verbalizes his curiosity. So instead they talk about it obliquely, couched in science jargon and woven through their words about 'terrible burdens' and 'inner monsters'.

Whether or not Bruce manages to pull the answer of 'magic' from their talk, Tony isn't sure. It _is_ a leap in logic, after all.

(Except Tony had hit the table and suddenly the readings went null. Bruce is intelligent enough to see through the fake readings that Jarvis is producing even now, but what conclusion he draws from them, Tony is unsure.)

The three of them settle into a comfortable rhythm of banter and work, and Tony can't help but preen at the way Banner begins to give as good as he gets. Tony's still trying to figure out what, exactly, he's feeling from Banner, but he's content to let it lie for now.

So of course, Rogers wanders into the room just in time to see Tony physically prod Bruce, and is instantly in Disapproval Mode. His words are pointed and his distrust is clear for everyone to read, as he chides Tony and eyes Banner and gives Rhodey a _look_ like he expected something more than what he walked in to see.

It puts Tony's back up, and his smile is just a little too sharp, a little too war-hungry, and even Rhodey's hand on his shoulder can't _quite_ beat back his instincts.

(Banner, Tony has already decided, is _his_.)

Falling into too-sharp banter with Rogers is familiar in a sickening way, like facing his father all over again—

(But not as painful. Not as brutal. For all he feels like Howard to Tony's senses, Rogers _isn_ _'t him_.)

(The shadow of the scepter still lingers within Rogers' mind, fading with every moment that passes but not quickly enough to prevent this argument from being sharper than it likely would have been.)

—and Tony is thankful for the contract that says he will never be under this man's control. Perhaps in time they could come to an agreement, could meet in the middle and work together, but that time is not now.

Banner speaks up, breaking through their argument and directing their attention to Loki's jab about a 'warm light for all mankind', to Rogers' puzzlement and Tony's amusement. He accepts the topic change, shrugging Rhodey's hand from his shoulder as he explains to Rogers about Stark Tower and clean energy, about why it's strange a scientist of his caliber and achievements wouldn't be invited to assist in a similar project.

Banner questions why an agency like SHIELD would be interested in getting involved in the energy business, anyway.

Rogers… doesn't look entirely convinced, but there's a spark there, a glimmer of _thoughtfulness_ that peeks around the dark mood the scepter had induced.

(Tony rejoices just a little at that evidence, that proof that Rogers is more than he's currently shown himself to be.)

When Rogers leaves, there's an air about him, a stubbornness that Tony doesn't think is entirely aimed at him, but rather at SHIELD itself.

He wonders what mischief the man is going to get up to; he's learned how to read between the lines, to know that Rogers was never the perfect, wonderful soldier that his father expounded upon. He's also learned that his _father_ was hardly a model of perfect adherence to the rules, either.

Either way, the results are sure to be… entertaining.

Rhodey gives him an exasperated look, even as Banner looks between them in confusion.

Tony just laughs and returns to work.

(Now, to figure out what dirty laundry SHIELD felt like hiding today.)


End file.
